


In the Spirit of Holiday Decorations, Part the First

by SomeoneAsGoodAsYou (the_wanlorn)



Series: An Advent-ure in Christmas Spirit [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Advent Calendar, F/M, Post-Season/Series 03, i'm giving up on fluff, sorry - Freeform, sorry for that falsehood in advertising from the last fics, sorry sorry sorry, this fluff sandwich has a bitter core and that core is called h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 22:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wanlorn/pseuds/SomeoneAsGoodAsYou
Summary: Decorating the Decker Christmas tree.





	In the Spirit of Holiday Decorations, Part the First

**Author's Note:**

> So, I didn't have time to put together a full playlist of non-religious Christmas songs, but it definitely included "[Giddyup Said Santa Claus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hh23i__ycFI)" and probably half of the Wee Sing Christmas CD.

Lucifer sat in his car, on the street in front of Chloe's house, watching the warm glow coming from the windows and seriously regretting all of his life choices that had led up to this moment. What he should be doing was leaving. Just turning around and driving back to Lux, texting the Detective that something had come up and he needed to be there. He was sure he could fabricate some sort of emergency if he tried hard enough.

He didn't want to ruin their Christmas celebrations, and if the shopping trip yesterday was any indication, that was all he would be doing. He could barely handle the half hour they were in the blasted store for without making a mess of things by letting his emotions get the better of him. He never used to have that problem.

But he'd promised he'd be there tonight. The Detective had taken one look at his face as they were leaving the station, when he was already doubting whether he should actually go or not, and made him promise.

"If it's too much, Trixie and I can decorate another day," she had told him. "We'll just have dinner and watch a non-holiday movie, okay?"

And, foolishly, he had agreed, telling her of course it wasn't too much and of course he would help decorate and of course he was fine. At the outset of this whole foolish venture he had only been thinking of spending time with her. He hadn't considered how much he truly hated everything about Christmas, and how that would affect them if he was around.

He just wanted to spend time with Chloe again; he really didn't want to ruin their Christmas. That wasn't the way to re-ingratiate himself with her.

He should leave.

"Lucifer!" Sticky small-child hands slapped the side of his car, making him jump as he was reaching for the ignition. "Mom wants to know if you're coming inside or not. She says she promises she won't actually make you listen to Mary's Boy Child on repeat if you do."

Too late to run now. He opened the door and got out, Beatrice grinning a toothy grin at him all the while as he said, "Well, I suppose if she promises."

"Don't you like Christmas carols?" she asked, skipping next to him up the walk.

"I do not," he said, hoping she wouldn't question him further. The last thing he wanted to do in that moment was get into a conversation about what pricks the lot of his relatives were with a child. Especially within earshot of the Detective, who would surely give him dirty looks and cut him off before he got to the important parts.

"Mom needs your help putting up the tree," she said instead of continuing to question him about it, for which he was grateful. "She can't get it straight."

Then he was in the house, Beatrice going to a box in one corner immediately while he was drawn to the corner of the living room where the Detective was half-hidden under the tree, quietly cursing as she fiddled with something under there and the tree wobbled. He quickly stepped up to hold it steady for her, watching with no little interest as she wiggled out from underneath it.

She tucked a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, missing several others, and he had to resist the urge reach out and tuck the rest of the strands away for her.

"Hey," she said quietly, smiling at him in a way that had his heart racing.

"Hi," he said back and just stood there foolishly, smiling at her, caught by the sparkle in her eyes. When she finally blinked and looked away, he cleared his throat and shuffled back a step, even though he wasn't really in her space, his hand still on the tree. He was getting covered in sap; he could feel it.

"Okay, stay there," she said as she backed away to the other end of the room. And then passed the most excruciating ten minutes of his life as she instructed him to move the tree just a little bit to the left- no the right- no left and a little back- Until she was finally satisfied. "Now don't move."

Then she was at his feet, back under the tree, tightening bolts into the poor tree to hold it steady. Once she was satisfied it was tight enough, she sat back on her heels and motioned for him to let go.

"Come see the ornaments," Beatrice said as soon as he did and grabbed his hand to drag him over to the box. She immediately dropped it and said, disgusted, "Your hand's _sticky_."

"I was just holding onto a pine tree, spawn," he said, already heading for the sink to wash his — very sticky — hand.

"I've never been that sticky," he heard her mutter behind him while the Detective just laughed.

"That's what all little urchins think," he called back to her, smiling to himself when she just scoffed.

"Can we listen to my Christmas music?" Beatrice asked as he was coming back to the room, and he tried not to stiffen at the question. He must have failed, because the Detective glanced at him before saying no.

"We can when Lucifer leaves, okay, Monkey?" she said, and Beatrice looked happy enough to accept that answer, but Lucifer couldn't shake the feeling that they were changing their traditions for him and that wasn't right.

"It's alright," he said, hoping the words sounded more natural than they felt. "You can-"

"Nope," the Detective said. "I put together a very specific playlist for tonight that doesn't include anything involving religion, God, angels, or Jesus."

He blinked at her. That must have taken... He knew what Christmas music was like, through osmosis if nothing else. That must have been a serious amount of effort, and when had she even had the time? He had been with her almost all day. He wasn't- It wasn't-

"So you still have to suffer through Christmas music," she was saying, "but it's the least offensive stuff I could find."

"Thank you," he said, swallowing. She just smiled at him and he was caught, again, wanting to freeze time just for a moment, just to have her smile at him like that a little longer. "I-"

But he didn't know what to say, how to follow his "thank you" up with something that explained how much it meant to him that she had taken the time to... to make him _welcome_. That maybe they couldn't listen to their usual music but they'd put together something they could share with him.

He swallowed again, and let his fingers clench around the Detective's when she slid her hand into his. He didn't know why she had suddenly decided this was an appropriate way of... offering comfort? Getting his attention? He wasn't actually sure what she was doing but he treasured the moments she chose to grace him like this, and would always take what comfort he could from her.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly while Trixie dug through the box of ornaments again, not paying attention to them. "We really can do this another day. You don't have to suffer through it."

"No, no," he said, tightening his grip when she squeezed his hand gently. "I'm alright. I do want to help."

And it was true, he found that he did. He wanted to be a part of this, to be a part of their traditions, even if only for a brief moment. If the price he had to pay was suffering through a celebration of his half-brother's birth, well. He would pay it.

He gave her hand a final squeeze and made himself let go. "So, what comes first, Detective? Ornaments?"

She graced him with another smile, and stepped away to go pick up a bundle of fairy lights.

"Lights first," she said. "Then garland, then ornaments."

They pulled the tree out from the wall a little, just enough so that Chloe could walk behind it. They worked together to get the lights up, then the garland, with her draping them around the lower branches and then handing them off to him to do the upper branches. Ornaments went quickly, where he discovered the only rule was to make sure there were no empty spots. He was, once again, in charge of the upper branches.

"Lucifer," Trixie said after she pulled a final box out of the bigger box of ornaments. "Mom says I can do the angel if you'll help."

He sighed. He had known that, at some point, he would probably have to confront the existence of the tree topper at some point. He hadn't seen any overtly religious ornaments, although he wouldn't have put it past the Detective to have merely made sure she or Trixie handled all of them.

Beatrice was carefully pulling the tree topper out of its box. It was a simple-looking thing, just fragile lace wrapped around a cone of some sort, with a wire halo on a stuffed fabric head and wire arms holding a yellowing piece of paper he supposed was meant to represent a hymnal.

"Lift me up," she ordered, and he did as directed, holding her tightly around the waist and lifting her high enough that she could carefully place the angel on top of the tree. He waited to feel that sting of bitter resentment as he lowered Beatrice to the floor again, but it never came.

The Detective turned off the lights and soon the three of them sat together on the sofa, bathed in the glow of the tree. Beatrice was slumped against her within minutes, fast asleep. She glanced over and smiled at him, her eyes soft with the reflected glow, and shifted until she was pressed up against his side. When he hesitantly lifted his arm, offering himself to her, she smiled wider and snuggled up against him.

She rested her head on his shoulder, still looking up at him. He felt... he wasn't sure what he felt. It certainly wasn't anything he had ever felt before, something he would almost label "content" if it didn't go even deeper than that.

"Thank you," the Detective said, her soft voice breaking the comfortable silence. His incomprehension must have shown in his eyes, because she added, "For putting up with this."

"It was hardly a trial," he said, surprised at how true it was. He would do it again — and would, in fact, have to do it again when they decided it was time to put up his own tree and decorate it. He found himself... not looking forward to it, but not dreading it the way he had been. "Hardly a trial at all."

"Good," the Detective said, and snuggled closer against him as they watched the tree together. And he could almost pretend they were a family, that he actually belonged there, with them.

Almost.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I need to apologize for the rushed-ness of the ending, but it's 1am and I need to be up in like four hours so. This is what you got.


End file.
